What Was Missed
by tsukiyukikage
Summary: From the start of their years at Hogwarts together to the Battle of Hogwarts, things were missed between the two youths as they grew up. Not that there was much between them in the first place. FredOC. Rated T for safety; may change later.
1. Year 1: Part 1

_**Dedicated to Calyx Schenecker**_

_**1994-2011**_

_**You're still here with us.**_

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><p>Hello, all! Thanks for venturing into my first Harry Potter fanfiction (believe it or not, I have some experience). If you're a reader from my other seriesstories, no fear! I still plan on finishing those. It just might take a really..._really_ long time.

This series, though, will hopefully be finished before July 15th, 2011. Each chapter, representing roughly a year, itself will be broken up into separate parts to better facilitate reading.

**DISCLAIMER:** If you met me, you would know that I, in no way, am capable of planning out anything as marvelously as the great J.K. Rowling has with Harry Potter. She, and Warner Bros., owns it. Although I do have Lupin's wand. And a pumpkin juice bottle.

Enjoy!

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><p>Clara was nervous. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the Muggle train station, she felt lost and, naturally, confused.<p>

What she didn't expect was the weird looks some Muggles, at least the ones that bothered to look, gave her. Of course, how often does one see an Eurasian Eagle Owl in a cage stacked on top of a trunk and other odds and ends on a trolley?

As she made her way through the crowded lobby, Clara thought about the letter she had received from a previously-unknown uncle about a month back. It had been handwritten, as most letters were, but in a small and jagged script:

_Clara,_

_Due to recent events, you will be staying with me and attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I shall be sending for your things once you are settled. A month from now, you will formally begin your wizarding education._

_In the mean time, you will have to go to Diagon Alley yourself and obtain all necessary learning materials._

_S. Snape_

Clara's first reaction was to wonder who the hell this "S. Snape" person was and how he managed to find out about her parents' accident. Her second was to think _He's loony._

She threw the letter away and shooed the small owl off her windowsill before going to bed.

The next day, she went to the funeral.

About a week later, on a whim, she decided to go on a stroll through the park. She was barely inside the gates when the lights went out. Not just the streetlamps or the ones in the park; every light within a two-block radius was gone.

_Must be a power outage. Except non one's coming out of their house. Or screaming. Something's up._

Clara froze in place and tried to examine her surroundings. She was so intent in doing so that she failed to see the dark, hulking mass separate itself from the shadows.

"Clara Richards," the figure spoke in a rough, booming voice, "yer uncle wants to see yeh." He came closer, muttering loudly about being made to run errands.

She was rooted in place, thoroughly unable to move, and her brown eyes were open wide in fear.

"C'mon now. We haven' got all day now."

Clara craned her heard back as far as it would go and was barely able to see the man's face.

Before she fainted, she thought, _What's with all the loons nowadays?_

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><p>When she woke up, the man, who she learned to be Rubeus Hagrid, gave her a brief explanation of the wizarding world and Hogwarts. He mentioned something about "squibs" and how she had been mistaken for one until recently. She could tell it wasn't necessarily a good thing to be but instead of questioning him about it, she asked why people's minds had changed?<p>

"Have yeh noticed anythin' odd recently? Things bein' put in one place one moment an' another the next? What about any animals followin' yeh?"

"Umm...I can't say that I have. But there was this one owl that came around the time I got the letter."

"Oh, tha' little thin'. Yer uncle sent him," Hagrid continued as if he didn't see her eyes and mouth pop open; for what, he didn't know. He pulled out a small pocket watch and glanced at its face. "And we need to get goin' if yer goin' to meet him on time."

"Alright...so how are we getting to wherever we're going?"

"Snape wants yeh to pick up yer school supplies from Diagon Alley before we head over to his place."

They'd had the conversation on the way to this Diagon Alley, but they stopped in front of a shady looking pub called The Leaky Cauldron. As Hagrid entered, wisps of purple smoke and raucous voices came through the door.

"Well, are yeh comin'?"

"Umm...yeah. Sure."

Joining Hagrid in the pub proper, she took a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimness. The Cauldron looked like any other pub...just a bit darker, really. She looked up to see Hagrid walking towards the brick wall at the back where it was less crowded.

"I thought we were going to Diagon Alley."

"We are. This is the most direct way." He pulled out a pink umbrella and tapped some bricks.

"What are you...?" A 'door' swung from the wall, accompanied by falling debris and that grating sound one gets when rubbing two pieces of unglazed pottery together. Strangely, most of the pub's patrons seemed not to notice and the ones that did quickly returned to their conversations or drinks.

Hagrid chuckled and allowed her to go through the crude doorway first. "Welcome to Diagon Alley." He led her down the crowded market street past shopfronts showcasing moving pictures and heavily chained books and didn't stop until they reached a far less elaborate one; the only items on display were three slim and sleek sticks, resting in padded boxes. The shop, if the faded gold paint of the overhang was any indication, was called Ollivander's.

Hagrid gestured for her to go inside. "Head strain' down tha' isle. Yeh'll find Ollivander at the end if he's in; he'll help yeh find yer wand."

"Aren't you coming with me?"

"It's a bit o' a squeeze. Yeh won' have anythin' to worry about as long as yeh don' touch anythin' yer not supposed to. Just go straight to the desk."

As she walked into the shop, Clara understood what he meant by having to squeeze. Even so, she decided that she liked the "wizarding world," or, at the very least, this wand shop. _It's like a library, but with less space. Or maybe a shoe store with all the boxes._ Out of curiosity and in blatant disregard to Hagrid's instructions, she opened one cobalt box out of the literal hundreds before her. The dark wand looked sinister with its gnarled wood and crooked profile. Not liking the aura it gave out, she tried another.

After closing the box, she placed it in the space that it had previously occupied but found that she was unable to do so. _Hold on...there's something here..._

Clara tried again, pushing harder to force the unseen object out of the way, and screamed when the shelf collapsed to lean on its neighbor.

Hagrid peered in and, in his booming voice, exclaimed, "What've yeh done now?"

"N-nothing, Hagrid!"

"Hagrid, I assure you it's quite all right. Stranger things have happened." Clara gasped in surprise as an amused-looking bespectacled man of average height and older age appeared from one of the many recesses in the shop.

"M-mr. Ollivander! I'm so sorry. I just wanted to look around a bit and then it wouldn't go in and I tried and..." Her voice cracked here.

"Not to worry. Fortunately, this is a mistake that can be easily rectified." With a smile, the wand-maker flicked his wand, sending the boxes and shelves back to their proper places.

"Now then, let's see what you've got there."

As he led her towards a cluttered desk at the back of the store, Clara, confused, looked at her hand and saw that she was holding a faded black box.

"Umm...Mr. Ollivander...I was just browsing. I didn't choose this one; I don't even remember grabbing it."

"Exactly," he said sagely, walking around the desk before taking the box from her to examine its contents. "The right wand will eventually find its wizard. In your case, witch. It's up to us to listen to it. You'll find that such occurrences aren't too uncommon here."

Smiling softly, Ollivander carefully withdrew the wand from where it was nestled within. "Ah! I'd almost forgotten about this one. I think it suits you."

Curious, Clara carefully took the proffered wand. It radically differed from the wand she saw before; this one was pale, sleek and just a tad bit shorter. As she held it, the wand warmed up and gently pulsed rhythmically.

"Yes," Ollivander mumbled, "it suits you well."

"Umm...Mr. Ollivander? I was wondering...what kind of wand is it?"

As if coming out of a trance, the wand-maker answered chipperly, "Willow. Ten and three-quarters inches. Very sturdy overall so it doesn't do exceptionally well in any particular area, I'm afraid."

Taking back the wand, he gently replaced it within its box and handed it back to her, along with a care kit.

"Shouldn't I pay?"

"The matter's already been settled. Send my regards to your uncle." Escorting her out of the shop, Ollivander shook her hand then turned to Hagrid. "Farewell, Hagrid!"

After his salutation, Hagrid led Clara down the Alley and into the shops where she'd have to buy her robes, an owl, and other magical materials. Later, before taking her to meet her "new" uncle, Hagrid asked her if she'd liked her first trip into the wizarding world, to which she replied, "Very much so."

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><p>Walking down the dark street struck apprehension into Clara's heart; there was still probably four hours of daylight left yet this one street, Spinner's End, seemed to be in the one pocket to which all the dreary weather in all of England flocked and gathered, creating a perpetually overcast sky with swirling thunderheads. Of course, it could have something to do with the old mill that loomed imperiously across the brown river from the rows of brick houses.<p>

"Hagrid, are you _sure_ he lives here?" Clara hid slightly behind his imposing figure as if to use him as a shield to ward off any lurking dangers.

""Fer the umpteenth time, I'm sure as sure tha' yer uncle lives here." As he said that, Hagrid turned from the sidewalk onto the concrete walkway leading up to a slightly worn door and knocked; his hands' booming thuds shook leftover raindrops from their perches on the eaves and they splattered on the shoulders of his wool coat.

_Guess this is the place._ "I forgot to ask. What's he like?"

Hagrid grunted, as if more than mildly displeased. "He's a Potions teacher at Hogwarts, so he's a bit brainy. Other than tha', yeh'll have to find out yerself."

Silence. The gentle click of the deadbolt sliding out of place. The door opened to reveal a fair (actually, he leaned more towards the sicklier side of the scale), tall man, who would've seemed taller if not in the remote vicinity of Hagrid, with long, slick black hair. After wandering towards her briefly, he stared at her escort; his voice was soft and slow as he stated, "Hagrid. How nice of you to wake my aunt Sally from her grave. I shall tell her you called. She will be glad to know."

"Alright, enough o' tha'. Where do yeh want her things?"

Her uncle opened the door wider and stood aside, allowing Hagrid, laden with everything except her new owl (she really had to think of a name for him. Bradford, maybe?) and wand, and herself to come inside. With Hagrid in the admittedly smallish house, it was too tight of a space to pretend to help them arrange her things in a room she had yet to see.

"Is there...is there anywhere I can sit?" Looking at Sn—her uncle was unnerving as he took in her appearance.

He delayed speaking to her until after he directed Hagrid ahead of them to the stairs. Taking in her appearance, he spoke once more in his smooth voice. "The sitting room is towards your right. You are welcome to occupy your time with the books on every shelf except the ones whose subjects are utterly unfamiliar to you."

He continued to stare her, the eye contact unnerving, until she made a move in the correct direction.

Right before she turned down the hall into the sitting room, Clara looked back and saw a swish of black cloth disappear above the top step. _How does he move like that?_

Looking into the room, she immediately knew that she'd like at least this area. All the available space on the walls were covered with leather spines with faded gilded writing. Setting Bradford's cage down in front of a worn and sagging sofa, she browsed the cracked spines on the shelves. _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi... Defensive Magical Theory... Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration... Asiatic Anti-Venoms..._

She hadn't spent a proper amount of time absorbing the book titles when she heard a vaguely disinterested voice behind her.

"Perhaps you will have more luck with another section."

Turning around revealed Snape's walking to the armchair opposite the sofa. "Uh, thanks. I'll just—"

"Sit." His request left no room for other options and he exuded the aura of one who was used to being in control and obeyed immediately. So she sat on the sofa, forcing her to face her uncle's boring gaze as he absentmindedly rubbed his lips.

As much as she loved books, Clara wished for something else to occupy the cozy sitting room's walls, just to give her an excuse to look away and break the tense silence that continued to grow between them.

Apparently finished with his appraisal of her, he finally spoke softly. "Your room is set up, if you wish to look."

She stopped playing with her hands. "Really? When did Hagrid leave?"

"A while ago."

"O...kay." With nothing else to do, she stood, grabbing the cage's handle, and went to the archway that led to the main hall. "Where am I going?"

He favored remaining seated instead of actually directing her towards her room. The room itself was small, as was the bed and desk, and dark. Freeing one hand of the cage, she searched along the wall for a light switch and, finding none, resigned herself to lighting a candle she found in the drawer. Bradford's cage was placed on the corner of the desk, out of danger of falling from any rough bumps.

Someone, either Hagrid or her uncle (_I wonder what I should call him... "Uncle Snape" and "Uncle Severus" are just too weird._), had placed her newly acquired robes and capes as well as some of her... Muggle clothes in the closet. Blushing deeply, Clara checked a small wardrobe's drawers and found her own, folded, neatly inside. Color-wise, she had no complaints: the walls were painted black, the curtains a deep green, as well as her bed sheets.

Staying upstairs for a while longer than necessary, she relieved herself and returned to the sitting room to see that her uncle was reading a book. Someone had also placed two plates of toad-in-the-hole and a glass each of a dull orange juice, in front of her seat, and a dark purple liquid on a small table that seemed unlikely to be able to stand with any weight on it, much less a full meal.

"I trust you find the room suitable?"

"Yeah. It's great. Just . . ." She didn't know how to tell him.

"Well?"

"Is there any electricity here? I mean, I'm not trying to say that you're poor or anything, i-"

He raised a hand to stop her speech. "You will find that witches and wizards have no need for the modern...Muggle conveniences you have grown used to." He paused, raising an eyebrow at her after she opened her mouth to speak. "Yes?"

"Nothing."

"That means wherever you go within the wizarding community, no one will have a television, or a computer. You will be fine with that, will you not?"

Struck speechless, she watched as what looked like a small satisfied smirk spread his lips a bit and his black eyes glinted.

Right then, Clara determined that she would hate this man.

As if realizing the backwards step he'd made in terms of their ongoing relationship, Snape coughed and traced his mouth slowly. "Let's eat, shall we?"

He placed the book aside briefly to appear polite but when it became apparent that neither was in a talking mood, he opened it again. As far as she could tell, he didn't make it further than a few paragraphs before he set it aside again.

"Did you make this?"

"In a way, yes."

More awkward silence passed.

"I suppose you want to know how we're related."

"No, I always thought I was a lesser known dictator's clone." She looked up from what remained of her food, unable to eat more, and saw what she thought was him questioning her sanity. "Kidding, kidding. Of course I want to know definitely. I mean, there's not a lot of possibilities." She paused before asking, "So what's in this glass?"

"Pumpkin juice."

"Alright, then." Setting her dish on the table, she picked up the glass. "No word on the connection between us?"

"Your mother and I were siblings."

"Then how come she never mentioned you?" After bringing the rim to her lips, Clara took a sip of the juice. "This tastes like Christmas!" Glancing at him, she saw his eyebrow twitch slightly. "Sorry. What were you going to say?"

"Our parents divorced when she was fairly young. I doubt she remembered our mother." He dropped of here, stroking his lips as his eyes became slightly unfocused.

Recognizing that this was a sensitive topic, Clara let it rest for later.

Somewhere further inside the house, a clock's bells pealed out the hour.

This seemed to bring Snape back from wherever he went to the present place. "It's late. If we are to continue this conversation, would you mind postponing the rest until tomorrow?"

She knew a dismissal when she heard one. "Yeah. What time do you usually wake up?"

"You may sleep late for the next week or so."

_Thanks_, she thought curtly, _didn't know I needed permission to sleep._ Standing, she grabbed her plate and glass, prepared to wash them, only to be denied.

As she dressed in a periwinkle pajama set and let her hair free from a tie, Clara thought about how she could possibly form a cordial relationship with this man.

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><p>Hope you enjoyed reading! Please excuse any errors in grammar or spelling. Actually, don't; leave a review and tell me what I did wrong or just to say whether or not you liked it. Thanks for reading!<p>

**EDIT:** I made a small change to Ollivander's description of Clara's wand, and a friend noted that about halfway through, I switched from Clara to Carla. Sorry if any of my early readers were confused! I'm on the lookout for that now.


	2. Year 1: Part 2

**AN:** Welcome to the second part of Clara's first year! I've run through this a few times, but since it's unbeta'd, there may still be some mistakes. I hope you still enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** If you met me, you would know that I, in no way, am capable of planning out anything as marvelously as the great J.K. Rowling has with Harry Potter. She, and Warner Bros., owns it. Except Clara. She's mine. Bradford is also mine.

**DISCLAIMER PART 2:** McGonagall's speech is taken from the page on the Hogwarts Houses at . All rights to that belong to HPL, J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., and each regions respective publishers.

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><p>The remaining month before the start of school passed by in a fairly awkward manner. Snape and Clara were, of course, still learning how to handle each other. So one day, after a lunch of meat pasties, when she approached the door to his study, Clara hesitated.<p>

She had to ask him something of the utmost importance.

Swallowing around the large lump in her throat, she knocked tentatively.

The calm, aloof voice, although muffled, allowed her entrance.

Opening the door, she took a few steps to stand a short distance away from his desk, upon which rolls of parchment, inkwells, and quills rested. Again, the walls of his study were covered in black and brown leather but from the titles she had briefly seen, they seemed to be more theoretical and educational in nature.

Snape himself was scribbling on a sheet of parchment, pausing only to refresh the ink in his quill. He'd been working on whatever it was for a few days now so she had thought best to leave him be. Until now.

"Umm...Uncle?"

He continued writing without sparing a glance at her. "What do you want?"

"Is...is there a store nearby? I need to pick something up."

This made him halt. "What do you need?"

"That...is personal. Why don't we just keep it a secret?"

Laying down his quill, he looked at her vacantly. In a low voice that reeked of consequences unless obeyed, he told her, "I shall ask once more. What...do you need?"

_Laying down the law already. Nice._ She stared at him, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. After a few minutes, she sighed and, blushing, told him. "I think my period started today...I need pads. Or something. I don't know."

Snape gripped the bridge of his nose and appeared to grow a few shades paler. As he spoke, he didn't look up from some point behind his eyelids. "There's some Muggle money around here. Try the top-left drawer in the kitchen; take what you need. If you go towards the end of the street, turn right, and keep straight for about five blocks, there's a convenience store."

"Thanks..."

He actually refused to open his eyes to look anywhere until after he heard his study door click shut and the fading footsteps go down the hall.

Fortunately for both, that was the only major incident. The rest of break was spent as it normally was, passing time in the sitting room, reading.

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><p>When the day to leave for Hogwarts came, Snape made sure she was packed, several times, and set her things outside on the porch. While she waited, Clara sat on her trunk and watched Bradford shuffle his feathers in his sleep. She had to wait a fair while before Snape returned, his comparatively smaller trunk behind him. After locking the door, he turned to her.<p>

He offered her his arm. "Make sure you have a firm grip. Your luggage, too."

Wrapping her fingers tightly around Bradford's cage and the handle to her trunks, Clara looped her arm around Snape's.

"You may want to close your eyes."

She barely had the time to follow his advice before she experienced the feelings of that one second one feels as an elevator starts to move and a disconcerting twisty feeling that left her nauseous and barely standing in an empty hallway in King's Cross Station.

Trusting his firm grip on her shoulder, she let Snape lead her over to a padded bench. Once seated, she put her head between her knees.

"I suppose I shall have to give you more of a warning next time."

Clara whipped her head up then groaned as the nausea that had almost completely left returned. "What do you mean by 'next time?' As far as I'm concerned, you can stick whatever you call that—"

"It's called Apparition and unless you have a better method, I believe you'll have to settle for it. Keep your head between your legs."

She did as told, only because it seemed like her best option at the moment. Eventually, she looked up and found that herself to be in the sole company of Bradford who crankily shuffled and called.

Unwilling to become lost in the terminal, she waited, head cradled in her hands, for a short while for her uncle to return from wherever he had gone.

When he did come back, she noticed that it was with a trolley.

"Are you feeling any better or do you still want to play the southern belle?"

"I get carsick easily! Geez!"

"Really now? Sure you're not hamming it up for sympathy?" At his rather tame smirk, Clara realized he was teasing her.

Smiling as innocently as she could, she told him, "Please, if I wanted to do that, I'd just tell you I'm having cramps." She chuckled when he gripped the bridge of his nose and breathed heavily for a bit. "What? You can't say it wouldn't work."

Sighing deeply, Snape turned away and placed her trunks and the owl cage onto the"It's ten-thirty. If we don't hurry, we'll be late for the train."

"Alright. Where're we off to?" She pushed the trolley, following Snape's lead.

"Platform 9 ¾."

"You do realize that most train stations don't deal with fractions, right? There was a survey that said people found them too confusing."

"When will you realize that Muggles and wizards work in completely different ways?"

"When you realize that, even though I was raised as a Muggle, I'm just as fluent in sarcasm as you are."

All she gained in answer was a cough although from what she could see of the way his shoulders moved, it seemed to be mixed in with a bit of a laugh. From what she'd learned about his personality, he was about as likely to admit it as it was to see snow in Ecuador. _First time for everything, I guess._

Soon, they made it to the area where the passengers for the trains of Platforms 9 and 10 dawdled.

"So...where's this magical Platform 9 ¾ you were talking about?"

This earned her a cool, disapproving gaze before he walked swiftly, without regard for any wayward stares, towards the leg of a brick archway. Instead of crashing into it, he disappeared.

"Point taken."

She backed the trolley up as far as she could do so without looking crazy, assuming that passing through the solid-looking creation required a fair amount of speed. Running forward, she couldn't help but notice some passers-by laughing at her.

When she came out on the other side, she looked as if she had a fading sunburn across her cheeks and nose. Looking around, she quickly found Snape who was standing near the ruddy conductor.

As she joined him, she noticed his eyes examining her appearance. Quickly handing over her larger trunk and Bradford to the conductor, she followed Snape on board.

The first car was already almost completely filled up and, as far as she could tell through the door at the back, it was the same for the next, even though both were easily at least double the size of a normal train car. The first thing Clara noticed was that most of the benches in this compartment were in an open space and were filled with teenagers in fairly normal street clothes—not what she had expected at all. The second thing was that each student seemed to already have settled firmly in their cliques and appeared to be entirely upperclassmen, unlikely to appreciate a first year in their midst.

She turned to ask her uncle where she should sit, only to find that he had left her. "Great. Time to be awkward and alone." Tightly gripping a worn book she had taken with her, she went down the center aisle quickly. Previously, none of the teenagers had talked boisterously and paid her no attention. However, now most stared at her and the ones that didn't were whispering to each other.

Finally making it to the door at the back, she passed through, noting that the loud talk resumed with her absence.

This compartment, while none stopped their conversations, was still almost filled to the point of being uncomfortable so she passed on again.

The third and fourth cars were styled differently, having separate privacy "rooms" for smaller groups. Finding one that was empty, she placed her suitcase on the floor below herself, spread out on the plush bench, and began to read.

At 10:55, about five minutes after she arrived, three ruddy red-headed boys, all panting, approached the door to her room.

The oldest one, a bit chubby, smiled kindly and spoke confidently. "Sorry, miss, but would you mind if me and my brothers joined you? The other rooms are kinda full, you know." Said brothers were chatting amongst themselves, clearly excited about starting school. Both still had some baby fat around their cheeks and shaggy hair and wore identical wool sweaters save for the large embroidered F and G on their fronts. It wasn't until she actually looked at their faces that she realized they were twins, identical to boot.

"Umm...sure. Come on in."

Withdrawing her legs to a more comfortable curled position resting in the corner of the room, she gave one of the younger brothers, the one wearing the F sweater, the rest of the admittedly large bench for his stuff. As he placed his things on the rack above them, he addressed his elder brother. "Charlie, we really should get here sooner, shouldn't we?"

Charlie, already settled in, was leaning across the seat and had placed his feet in the other twin's lap, much to his disdain. "Bring it up with mum. After all, it's not everyday she gets to make a First Time to Hogwarts breakfast."

"Still, we barely made it on time!" The Twin Whose Name Started with an F plopped down onto the bench, huffing as he did so.

Choosing to ignore his siblings' comment, Charlie turned to where Clara sat and held out his hand. "Charlie Weasley, sixth year Gryffindor. And my brothers."

Shaking his proffered hand, Clara asked, "So you've got the rest of a set of triplets somewhere on your body?" earning herself a few chuckles.

The twins moved to shake her hand next, exclaiming, "We're identical!"

The one in the F sweater pointed at his counterpart and said, "He's George."

Imitating him, George answered with, "And he's Fred."

Again, they spoke at the same time. "Nice to meet you!"

Laughing, she spoke. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm Clara Richards."

"This your first year at Hogwarts?" Charlie inquired.

"Yeah. Actually, I didn't even know about it until about a month ago."

"Really? Are you a Muggle-born then?"

"Why, is it bad?"

"To some, but I guess for others like you it's a shock to go from one lifestyle to something completely foreign."

"Haven't got much experience with it yet, but you'll be the first to know."

Fred spoke up. "Actually, it's our first year, too,— "

"—we won't be too far if you need someone to talk to." Both smiled cheekily at her.

"Tha—" She yawned largely. "Sorry, late night packing. But seriously, thanks."

"Not a problem!"

She looked at Charlie. "They do that often?"

Eyes closed, he nodded.

"How do you stand it?"

"Would you believe that there's a special breed of heavy items that are attracted to them?"

"If that's what you have to tell yourself to get to sleep at night, sure."

They laughed at the twins' in spite of their loud protests.

Finally sitting up, much to George's relief, Charlie asked her what house she was hoping to be put in.

"House? What's that?"

"It's... Well, basically it's a Sorting system; don't ask me how it works though. There's this Sorting Hat, and it decides what house—Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff—to put you in."

"We're hoping to—"

"—get into Gryffindor, ourselves."

"Bit of a family legacy, you see."

"Really? I couldn't stand that. Too much pressure."

Fred and George who, by the crestfallen looks on their faces, probably hadn't even considered the possibility of not making it into Gryffindor robes shared a panicked look between them.

Charlie grinned easily to reassure his younger brothers. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll both make it in. Even if you don't, Mum and Dad won't disown you or anything." He once again turned to Clara. "So, what House do you want?"

"Um...I'm not sure to be honest. I'll probably be fine with whatever I'm given."

The rest of the train ride was passed in comradely conversation, shared treats which, due to a lack of apparent foresight regarding wizard money, Fred chivalrously bought her, and quite a few matches of Wizard's Chess between Charlie and Clara before they changed into their school robes about twenty minutes before their arrival. Charlie's, his having already been sorted, was lined with gold and red stripes as was his grey wool sweater; both sported what must have been the Gryffindor crest. A reared lion roared on a field of yellow and gold.

At their destination, they gathered their things and George and Charlie quickly left the compartment. Clara was about to exit when Fred grabbed her hand.

"If you make it into Gryffindor, feel free to chat me up, alright?"

Blushing loudly again, Clara pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'll be sure to do that."

"Great! Hey, has anyone told you your hair's really pretty?"

Shocked, she could only get out an incoherent syllable before George peeked into the compartment. "Hey, Fred, you comin' or not?"

"Yeah, I'll be right there!" Satisfied for the moment, George left them. "See ya in a bit, Clara!"

Alone, she freaked out, just a bit, before leaving to join the other students.

The trip to the castle itself took place on a chain of carriages drawn by their own powers, for the upperclassmen, and what she found out to be charmed boats to cross the lake for the first years. She, Fred, and George managed to get into a boat by themselves, plus a curly haired boy.

Once inside, the upperclassmen went ahead to the Great Hall while the first years waited just outside the grand oak doors. The walk to the Entrance Hall was went by too fast for Clara to actually absorb the details but at rest, she realized the sheer magnitude of just this room. The ceiling was somewhere far above their heads and the walls were riddled with moving portraits of everything imaginable; the walls themselves were a faded, elegant floral pattern on a deep red velvet background.

Thoroughly distracted by the beauty of the lobby, Clara was caught unawares by a mischievous whisper in her ear and screamed.

When she whipped around to find the culprit, she was met with the sight of two guffawing ginger twins, doubled over in laughter.

"Oh, ha, ha. Pick on the new girl, why don't you?" Miffed, she crossed her arms turned back to face the stairs leading towards the Great Hall.

"C'mon now, I didn't mean it!"

"Besides, we're all new here," one of them pointed out.

"Doesn't matter. Until I can get you back, you're not forgiven."

"Big talk for coming from someone who doesn't know who did it."

"Yeah? Guess what."

Two voices came from behind her. "What?"

"Shut up."

Before they were able to make a comeback, an old woman wearing velvet robes and a large, droopy hat carrying a roll of parchment. Clapping her hands, she called the group to attention quickly and spoke in a kind voice that belied a tone of experienced authority.

"The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Pausing, presumably for emphasis, the professor opened the doors and led them through into the Great Hall. Four massive rectangular wooden tables, and the students seated there, took up the majority of the room's space while straight ahead was a platform for the professors' table. Towards the front and to the center was an old stool with an older patched grey hat sagging on its seat.

From all around Clara came gasps of wonder and, looking up, she saw why. What was clearly supposed to be the roof was instead the night sky, exactly as it was through the windows. A few grey clouds ghosted by, in front of the stars and behind the floating candles that served as the only source of light besides the candelabras on the tables and torches on the walls.

They followed the professor to the stage and waited where she told them at the bottom of the stairs. She stood next to the stool and picked up the hat before unfurling the roll of parchment then looked over her shoulder to an aged man with stark white hair and beard and half-moon spectacles.

With a gentle, soothing voice one might expect to come from a grandfather, he announced to everyone, "Let's start the sorting, shall we? Professor McGonagall?"

She nodded and read the first name on the list.

Everyone was quieted as the boy, Roger Davies, sat where McGonagall pointed. She then lowered the hat. It had barely touched his head before the hat sprang to life and yelled proudly, "Ravenclaw!"

An entire banquet table burst out into cheers as Davies joyfully jumped off the stool and ran towards his new house's table.

Most of the subsequent people called up were placed into either Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin, including Cedric Diggory, but there were a few new Gryffindors, leaving the remaining children anxious over which they would be placed in.

Finally, it was Clara's turn. Looking at Fred and George, who smiled and clapped her on the back, for support, she climbed the stairs. Breathing deeply, she saw a dark-haired figure at the far end of the professors' table eying her speculatively. She finally reached the stool.

Staring hard at it before sitting, she screwed her eyes shut as she felt the material of the Sorting Hat cover her forehead.

Before her, there had been children upon whom the Sorting Hat had deliberated longer than the others, but most of them were quickly sorted. Like for all the others who took time, the entire hall quieted. Even though it was right next to her ears, Clara couldn't decipher the Hat's mutterings.

So she was just as surprised as Fred and George when the Hat shouted, "Slytherin!" to the room.

She tried to smile, but it was forced. Hopefully, the cheering Slytherins thought it was just because she was nervous. In truth, she was despondent over not making it into Gryffindor.

It was made even worse by the fact that all but one of the remaining five students were placed into said house. _At least they don't have to worry about what their family thinks of them now._

This brought her attention to Snape, who was blatantly staring at her, until the hall quieted down as the same aged man from before stood and walked to a podium.

In that same old voice, he introduced himself as their headmaster, Dumbledore, and the rest of the teachers in turn; some were more applauded than others. Hearing the headmaster's introduction of her uncle reminded her of his position as her new Potions teacher.

In any other situation, Clara would be elated to have a close relative as a teacher. From what she'd learned about him, though, her next few years would be torture.

* * *

><p>So...how did everyone like that? Seriously, if you love the Twins and liked what I did with them, or have any helpful tipssuggestions/advice for writing them, please leave a review with that information in it.

Look out for the next part!

**EDIT:** Fixed a minor mistake with the carriages and boats. :)


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